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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067988">All is Calm?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumby/pseuds/grumby'>grumby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Adventure Zone (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, the reapers are conned into delivering presents, this only makes sense if you remember that merle is canonically santa after that one live show</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:08:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28067988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumby/pseuds/grumby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry tugs the hat on.</p><p>A blinding, golden light emanates from his body. Lup and Kravitz shield their eyes as a faint jingling of bells echoes in the distance, along with animal noises that sound vaguely like what you imagine a reindeer would make. As the light fades, Barry comes back into view. He’s wearing the Santa hat, the red fabric vibrant and jolly. His jacket has been transformed into a red coat with a white, fluffy lining. His pants, while a matching jolly red, are still denim – some things are simply immutable, even in the face of ancient Santa magic. The look is topped off by an enormous white beard that’s sprouted from his chin. </p><p>“Oh,” he says, looking down at himself. “I hate this.” He pulls gently on the beard. “This fucking sucks.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barry Bluejeans/Lup</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All is Calm?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kravitz shoots Merle a glare. “You’re Santa,” he says, disbelievingly. </p><p>The dwarf shrugs, taking a sip from the curly straw poking out of his coconut mug. “Yeah.” </p><p>“And... You killed the old Santa?” Lup asks, a look of mild revulsion on her face. </p><p>Merle scrunches up his nose, apparently deep in thought, before his face clears and he shrugs. “I guess so. I don’t remember. He died, I was there, what happened is basically immaterial, right?” </p><p>Barry laughs, a little hysterically. “You know, that’s actually very in-character. I’m just surprised you didn’t kill any other plane’s Santas long before now -” The dwarf leans forward and lowers his sunglasses to wink, and Barry tails off. “Merle. Merle, how many Santas have you killed?” </p><p>Kravitz sighs. “I’m shocked that our plane survived first contact with you seven at all. Santa dying is a small price to pay in the face of such chaos.” </p><p>“I personally saved the universe,” Merle argues. “That should counteract any Santa-cide.” </p><p>Barry ponderously nods his head. “If he’s Santa, he does control the naughty or nice lists.” </p><p>“What - and that makes it <em>morally okay to murder Santa?” </em>Lup’s voice is a few octaves above normal, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline in shock. </p><p>“Okay, anyway,” Merle says. “Leaving aside the question of <em>who murdered who</em>, can you, uh, fish Santa’s corpse out of hell and make him do the rounds for me? I’m gonna be real busy this year, and I can’t afford to -” </p><p>“Gods, I was so hung up on the fact that you murdered Santa that I didn’t even consider that you have to deliver presents to every child. Is there a sleigh? Pulled by reindeer? How do you have time to get across the entire world?” Barry says, patting his pockets for a notebook and pulling a pen from behind his ear. “There must be some high-level spellwork at play, there, right -” </p><p>Merle shrugs. “I’ve only been Santa for one year, and I only had to deliver one present. The old guy did it all last time. So I’m not really sure. Anyways, can you do it?” </p><p>Kravitz clears his throat. “I don’t know what I expected from a prolific death criminal such as yourself, but that’s really not how it works. Old Santa is tragically dead, cut down in his prime, taken too soon -” </p><p>Merle grumbles to himself. </p><p>“- And we have no business resurrecting him. You’ll have to do the rounds yourself.” </p><p>“Well, guess lots of kids are gonna go unhappy this year,” Merle says. “Just think of their little faces as they wake up to empty stockings. Not to mention the elves. All their hard work, for nothing!” He swoons dramatically. </p><p>Kravitz is unimpressed. “I’m not impressed. You’re the one who can do something about it.” </p><p>Merle scowls, immediately dropping the<em> won’t-someone-think-of-the-children </em>act. “Hey, Kevin, go over there for a bit. I wanna talk to Barry.” </p><p>“<em>Kev </em>- I’m not leaving you alone with Barry. Barry, do not even think about resurrecting Santa,” Kravitz orders. </p><p>Lup grins at him. “C’mon, <em>Kevin</em>, Merle’s trying to have a private conversation here.” Kravitz glowers, but says nothing, looming over Merle and Barry threateningly. </p><p>“Merle, I don’t know. I kinda like my job, and I don’t wanna get fired,” Barry says. “Resurrecting Santa is<em> definitely </em>something I’d do, normally, but Krav – Kevin – is always watching me. Doesn’t trust me an inch.” </p><p>“Because last time I left you two alone, what did you do?” </p><p>Lup grins. “We had to know if Fantasy Elvis was really dead, Skeletor, c’mon.” </p><p>“I told you I reaped him myself. I got him in the late fantasy nineties, after a necromancy career that almost rivals your own,” Kravitz replies. “And there were easier ways to find out than <em>resurrecting him. </em>He could’ve gone on another killing spree, and then what?” </p><p>“Less fun ways,” she mutters, and Kravitz turns back to Merle. </p><p>“I absolutely forbid it. Santa is resting peacefully and I won’t drag his soul from the Sea, no matter how many children will go unhappy. It’s your fault for <em>killing the man </em>and then neglecting your responsibilities.” </p><p>“Why can’t you go, anyway?” Barry asks. </p><p>“I’m hosting a Candlenights party at Chesney’s,” Merle shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “Plus, my bad knee has been playing up -” </p><p>All three reapers start shouting at once. Merle barely blinks at the ensuing chaos, taking another sip from his coconut. </p><p>“You’re too busy with a <em>party?” </em>Kravitz yells. </p><p>“You don’t even have a bad knee!” Barry argues. </p><p>“You didn’t invite us to your Candlenights party?” Lup shouts, looming threateningly over the dwarf. </p><p>“I might’ve got a bad knee since we saw each other,” Merle replies, unrepentant. “Probably in the fight with Santa. Bastard fought dirty.” </p><p>“I watched you climb over a family of five at Fantasy Costco on Black Friday to get to the last margarita kit,” Lup glares. “You certainly didn’t have a bad knee then. Now can you elaborate on why we weren’t invited to your party?” </p><p>“I’m trying to – to cultivate a certain vibe -” </p><p>Lup’s mouth drops open, but before she can say anything Kravitz cuts in again. “Merle, I’m sorry, but we can’t help you.” </p><p>Merle scowls. “Fine, you can come.” </p><p>“<em>Thank </em>you,” Lup grins. “Alright, where’s Santa’s corpse? Barry, start charging a Raise Dead -” </p><p>“No,” Kravitz sighs. “That’s not the issue here.” </p><p>“Open bar,” Merle wheedles. “Free margaritas!” </p><p>Barry and Lup look to Kravitz as if to say, <em>daaaad</em><em>, can we? </em> </p><p>“No!” Kravitz reaffirms, sternly. “We can’t resurrect Santa. Merle, you’re going to have to do it.” </p><p>Merle frowns and strokes his beard, humming thoughtfully. “You can’t bring him back for one measly night?” </p><p>“No,” Kravitz says, wearily. “Now can we go? We have real bounties to catch.” </p><p>“Okay, wait,” Merle grins. “I’ve got it. You can be Santa.” He nods, decisively, like it’s been decided. </p><p>They blink at him. “Merle, uh, did you miss the part where we have real jobs to do?” Barry asks. </p><p>Merle waves a dismissive hand. “That’s easy to fix. I’ll get on to Pan, and he can talk to the crow lady -” </p><p>“<em>Raven Queen</em>,” Kravitz glowers. “You’re a cleric, you’ve got no excuses not to know this.” </p><p>“- and she can give you the day off. I’m sure he can convince her to pay you, too. Probably overtime, since it’s the holidays -” </p><p>“I - we don’t get paid by the hour,” Kravitz says, but Lup holds a hand up to shush him. </p><p>“Wait, wait, we’re gonna get overtime for this? Fuck yeah, sounds like fun. Better than reaping some dumb asshole who can’t even get the Abyssal sigils right, right, Bear?” </p><p>Barry shrugs. “I guess. Not as if we’re doing anything else, since we’re not invited to your very exclusive party.” </p><p>Merle grins. “I knew you guys would agree. Thanks, Kevin.” </p><p>“It’s - it’s not -” Kravitz starts, but Merle ignores him, pulling a crumpled and dirty Santa hat from one of the many pockets of his khaki shorts, thrusting it into Barry’s hands. </p><p>“Here,” he says. “Put this on. Anyway, I have to go, because this Candlenights party isn’t going to organise itself. I’ve got a tanker full of eggnog arriving at four.” </p><p>He waddles off, leaving Barry and Lup peering at the dirty hat. Kravitz just seems flabbergasted. </p><p>“This is Santa’s hat? Like, real Santa?” Lup grumbles, poking at the threadbare fabric. “It’s not much to write home about, is it?” </p><p>“It’s, uh – it <em>has </em>been in Merle’s possession,” Barry says. “For a whole year.” </p><p>Kravitz scowls. “Frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t lose it. You can count me out of this nonsense. I’m going to spend my Candlenights with my husband, I don’t need to -” </p><p>Barry tugs the hat on as he’s speaking. A blinding, golden light emanates from his body. Lup and Kravitz shield their eyes as a faint jingling of bells echoes in the distance, along with animal noises that sound vaguely like what you imagine a reindeer would make. As the light fades, Barry comes back into view. He’s now wearing the Santa hat, but it’s restored, the red fabric vibrant and jolly. His jacket has been transformed into a red coat with a white, fluffy lining. His pants, while a matching jolly red, are still denim – some things are simply immutable, even in the face of ancient Santa magic. The look is topped off by an enormous white beard that’s sprouted from his chin. </p><p>“Oh,” he says, looking down at himself. “I hate this.” He pulls gently on the beard. “This fucking sucks.” </p><p>Kravitz snickers. Lup stares at him for a moment before cracking up. “Oh my gods, Barry, you look – holy shit.” </p><p>He looks at her and scowls. “Listen, you – you're as bad! Take a look at yourselves!” </p><p>Lup spins to look at Kravitz, her horrified look reflected back at her on his face as they both realise they’re in elf costumes – pointed shoes, a green jacket, red and white stripy tights and a dress for Lup, and red trousers for Kravitz. </p><p>“Wha - hold on, I don’t have any part in this,” Kravitz says. “You guys are going, I’m not – I'm not being a fucking elf!” </p><p>“Looks like the magic of Candlenights says differently,” Lup grins. “I think I make it work, right, Barry?” </p><p>He snakes an arm round her waist. “I’ve never seen you not look good, Loopy,” he says, his lovestruck look only slightly obscured by his new beard. She leans away slightly. </p><p>“Don’t think you’re kissing me ‘til you’ve had a date with a razor,” she says. “But thanks.” He’s got a look on his face like a kicked puppy, but she ignores him. “Is there a sleigh? Check your pockets, Bear, have you got, like, car keys?” </p><p>He sticks his hands in the pockets of his enormous red coat and rummages around. “Uh, I’ve got...” He pulls out a half-eaten mince pie and a thermos, which, when he unscrews it, turns out to be full of milk. “Warm milk and pie?” </p><p>Lup pouts and scratches her chin, humming thoughtfully. “Okay, uh, how do you call a reindeer? Does anyone know what a reindeer mating call sounds like?” </p><p>Kravitz tears the hat off and throws it to the ground. “I’m not – I'm not coming! This is stupid. Somehow, you two are even worse Santas than Merle -” He makes a face of concentration, but all that happens is the elf hat disappears from the ground and reappears on his head. “How - this fucking elf costume has hijacked my construct! This just gets better and better -” </p><p>Barry roots through his pockets again, ignoring Kravitz’s tantrum, and pulls forth a carrot. “Uh...” </p><p>“Oh, uh, wave it around!” Lup says. “Maybe they’ll smell it.” </p><p>“Maybe they’ll <em>smell it,” </em>Kravitz deadpans, his voice full of scorn. “They’re fucking reindeer! Not fantasy superman!” </p><p> “Does, uh, does superman <em>have </em>super smelling?” Barry asks, wafting the carrot around vaguely. </p><p>No one answers, because at that moment a sleigh bell jingles. Kravitz looks furious. “Fucking - of course. Why not?” </p><p>Over the horizon, a dark shape appears, sleigh bells ring-ting-tingling as it approaches. Before long, it’s obvious that it’s a sleigh, pulled by nine reindeer, majestic, enormous, their muscles working furiously. The sleigh is bright red, and it floats, just an inch off the icy ground, and pulls up next to Barry, the lead reindeer – with a glowing red nose – giving a snort and nuzzling at him. He takes an anxious step back, but all nine reindeer take a step forward to follow him. </p><p>“Uh, hi,” he says, with a nervous grin. “You must be, uh, Rudolph?” The reindeer snorts and gives him a look, as if to say,<em> fucking obviously. </em> </p><p>“Give him the carrot,” Lup hisses, and Barry nods, holding it out gingerly. The reindeer snaps, and in a flash the carrot is gone. The other eight look at him expectantly, and Barry’s suddenly aware that the reindeer all have very sharp horns. </p><p>He licks his lips, nervously. “Lup,” he whispers, not looking away from the reindeer. “There was only one carrot. Does anyone know if reindeer are omnivores?” </p><p>“It’s a magic coat,” Kravitz says blankly, at normal volume, prompting both Barry and Lup to wince. The reindeer don’t shift their unblinking gazes from Barry. “Check the pockets. It’s probably regenerated.” </p><p>Oh-so-slowly, Barry slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out another carrot. The look of relief on his face is almost comical as he feeds the carrot to the next reindeer in line and repeats the process. Each reindeer seems far less threatening when it’s not staring at him with a hungry look in its eye. </p><p>“Okay,” he says, when the threat of getting eaten by a beloved children’s icon seems reduced. “Are we – do we just get in the sleigh? How do we know where to go? It’s not, uh, it’s not night yet. What does Santa do during the day on Candlenights Eve?” </p><p>Lup shrugs. “There might be, like, instructions. Or maybe the reindeer know where to go?” </p><p>She clambers into the sleigh, checking under the seats for instructions. Barry follows her, looking through the sacks on the back seat. Kravitz just watches. “I’m not – I'm not getting on the fucking sleigh,” he says, obstinately. “I’m not a grinch, I just – This isn’t my job. I’m here to reap, not to give presents.” </p><p>At the mention of the word <em>grinch, </em>though, all nine reindeer turn their heads in unison, slowly, to look at Kravitz, fixing him with an unblinking gaze. One of them – Prancer? Vixen? - snorts and stamps its foot. He gulps. </p><p>“Okay,” he says. “I’ll get in the sleigh.” </p><p>The moment his foot touches the sleigh’s floor, the reindeer snort and paw at the ground, tugging lightly at their harnesses. “Uh, I guess they know where we’re going,” Lup says. “What - how do we make them go?” </p><p>Barry bites his lip, before his face clears. “Uh, on Dasher, on Dancer -” </p><p>He barely gets the first two reindeer’s names out, though, before all nine take off in a dead sprint, throwing them all back in their seats. Lup whoops with glee as the sleigh takes off. Barry clutches the rails until his knuckles are white. Kravitz just slowly turns green. </p><p> </p><p>The sleigh glides to a halt outside the mall, the reindeer craning their necks to reverse into the parking space. Kravitz stumbles out as soon as they stop, taking a few paces to get away from the reindeer before he feels safe enough to look around. “Where... where the fuck are we?” </p><p>Lup hops out, looking far more chipper than she has any right to after a ride like that. “Uh, a mall? Are there kids to deliver presents to here?” </p><p>There’s a crowd of parents and kids amassing, by now, watching the sleigh. As Barry steps out, there’s a cheer. “Santa!” A little girl cheers, and Barry waves nervously. </p><p>“Hi. Uh, ho ho ho.” </p><p>“They probably just took us to a fucking carrot shop,” Kravitz scowls. “Why couldn’t the sleigh be pulled by ravens? They’re much easier to handle.” </p><p>“Kravitz, I’m fascinated by the implication that you think there are shops that only sell carrots,” Lup says. “Please elaborate?” </p><p>He opens his mouth, but he’s interrupted by a halfling elbowing his way through the crowd. He’s wearing a black jacket and a blue t-shirt, with a fantasy walkie-talkie strapped to his belt. “Finally!” He says. “You’re late, we’ve got a queue round the mall! Come on, come on! Bring the sack!” </p><p>The reapers look at each other. Barry shrugs and grabs the sack off the backseat. “Sure.” </p><p>They follow the halfling through the crowd and across the parking lot. He’s got tiny legs, but that doesn’t stop him moving at breakneck speeds as he leads them through an employee entrance and up some grimy back stairs. He pushes a fire exit door open, and ushers them through into a wooden cabin, erected inside the mall. One side is open, showing the massive queue formed outside the grotto. </p><p>“Santa, you sit there. Elves, you’re here to welcome them in. Okay? Okay.” He bustles out. “Santa’s arrived!” He yells, and there’s a ragged cheer. </p><p>“Seriously?” Lup says. “Real Santa worked in a mall? Gods, I’m glad Merle didn’t do it, imagine exposing kids to that old man.” </p><p>“He has children,” Barry supplies, mildly, as the first parent ushers their child in through the archway at the entrance. </p><p>“Hello!” Lup says, with a smile. “What’s your name?” </p><p>“Michael,” the kid says. </p><p>“Ho ho ho?” Barry tries, and the kid squints at him. </p><p>“You don’t sound very sure,” he says. </p><p>Barry blinks. Kravitz guffaws. </p><p>“Do you want presents or not? Get up here,” he scowls. The kid walks up and clambers up onto Barry’s lap. “Have you, uh, been naughty or nice?” </p><p>“I want a fantasy Xbox,” the kid says. “But you’re not really Santa, because Santa isn’t real. You’re just a dude with a hat and a stupid beard.” </p><p>Barry pauses. “You know,” he says, slowly. “Not a lot of people know this, but Santa has a friend who’s a skeleton. He punishes the naughty kids.” He indicates Kravitz, and when the kid turns to look, he gives him a glare. </p><p>Kravitz makes a face of concentration. Nothing happens. He gives a sad shrug. “I told you the elf outfit messed with my construct.” </p><p>“He doesn’t look like a skellington,” the kid says, turning back to Barry. “He looks like an elf. Can I have my chocolate now? You’re weird.” </p><p>Barry scowls. “Yeah, fine.” He reaches into the sack, but finds it empty. Oh, right, magic. He concentrates, and finds that an enormous box materialises in his hands. “Here.” He puts it on the kid’s lap. The kid barely waits a second before he tears the red and green wrapping paper off, to reveal a cardboard box with the fantasy Xbox logo on it. </p><p>“Woah!” He leaps off Barry’s lap and runs outside, clutching the box. “Mom! Look what Santa gave me!” </p><p>“Not even a thank you,” Lup scowls. </p><p>“You gave him an Xbox?” Kravitz asks, incredulous. </p><p>“Nah, the box is full of coal,” Barry says, with an evil grin on his face. Lup squawks with laughter. </p><p> </p><p>Kravitz has been stood at the doorway for a little while, ignoring the kids as they enter. He’s got such a stormy look on his face that one kid ran out crying as soon as they saw him. </p><p>“What <em> is  </em>it, Kravitz? What are you staring at?” Lup demands as Barry deals with a child. </p><p>“Look,” he says. “Next to the Fantasy McDonald’s.” </p><p>She squints out through the door, and her gaze eventually drifts to the Fantasy Hot Topic. “Uh, yeah?” </p><p>“No, look,” he says, pointing. “It’s a front. For necromantic goods.” </p><p>Lup stares at him, a confused look on her face. “What are you <em>talking </em>about?” </p><p>“<em>Look,”  </em>he insists, jabbing his finger again. “That lady came out with a staff. It’s got a skull on the top.” </p><p>“Krav, that’s - that’s what Hot Topic is like.” She steps aside to let a child into the grotto. “Lots of people like skull stuff. Doesn’t mean they’re necromancers.” </p><p>He scowls at her. “I’m gonna go sort this out,” he says. “You don’t have to come and do our <em>actual job. </em>Just stay here and be a fucking elf.” He strides out of the grotto, before turning, a sheepish look on his face. “I mean, like, Santa’s elf. Obviously you’re always an elf.” </p><p>He turns back to Hot Topic and storms off. Lup grimaces. This can only go badly. </p><p>“Barry,” she calls. “I’m gonna go stop Kravitz killing some goth teen working a minimum wage job, is that cool?” </p><p>He looks at her, a horrified expression on his face. “Lup, I – don't leave me with these children.” </p><p>“You’ve got this, babe, I believe in you,” she calls over her shoulder as she walks out. She faintly hears Barry asking <em>so, uh, do you have a car? Is that – you're about seven, right? </em>as she heads off. </p><p>She barely gets halfway across the mall’s atrium before Hot Topic explodes. </p><p>A figure, dressed in black with numerous piercings and tattoos, is thrown through the window and hits the floor heavily. They don’t move as Kravitz appears in the fronting of the shop. “By order of the Raven Queen!” He shouts, in his cockney accent. “You’re under arrest for the proliferation of forbidden necromantic items!” The effect is only slightly ruined by the fact that he’s still dressed as an elf. </p><p>“Oh, gods,” she mutters, and breaks into a run. </p><p>Kravitz holds out his hand to summon his scythe. A harsh wind blows from somewhere, which would normally make his cape flutter dramatically. As it is, though, all that happens is the breeze knocks his elf hat off. He barely seems to notice as the staff begins to appear in his hand. But something’s wrong. Instead of the normal dark wood, his scythe appears to be made of... red and white striped candy? </p><p>“What the fuck?” He mutters, wielding an oversized candy cane. “Why the fuck - ?” </p><p>Lup arrives next to him, panting for breath. “Kravitz, gods, don’t fucking kill this kid, she’s an employee at a goth store -” </p><p>“She’s selling necromantic items,” Kravitz says, obstinately. “This is our job, Lup. We’re not really Santa’s elves. You remember that, right?” </p><p>“Kravitz, <em>please, </em>Hot Topic isn’t a fucking necromancy store!” She protests. </p><p>At that moment, though, a ray of black, sizzling energy shoots over her shoulder and catches Kravitz in the chest. He drops the candy cane as he’s blasted backwards, back into the store. She turns to see the Hot Topic employee floating into the air, eyes glowing red, an orb of black energy floating in each of her upturned palms. </p><p>“You <b>fools!” </b>She shouts. “You thought you could destroy me? I’ve been selling artefacts for decades, building my power little by little, and now – I am <b>unstoppable!</b>” She pauses. “And we do earrings, too. That’s mostly a front but it turned out quite profitable. Anyway. Prepare to meet your<b> doom!</b>” </p><p>“Huh,” Lup says, as another ball of that black energy appears in the necromancer’s palm. “I guess Kravitz was right for once.”  </p><p>She reaches out her hand, in an attempt to summon her own scythe, but - “Shit,” she mumbles, as a roll of wrapping paper appears in her hand. She throws it at the necromancer, and with a hollow, cartoonish <em>bonk </em>it bounces off her chest and drops to the floor. </p><p>The black energy sizzles past her, missing by a hair’s breadth as she dives aside, scooping up Kravitz’s dropped candy cane. Another energy beam blasts towards her, but she brings up the candy cane to deflect it, and even she’s surprised when that works. </p><p>“Hah, you’re going to fight me with candy?” The necromancer throws back her head and laughs. “Please! I pierce children’s ears with a more deadly weapon!” </p><p>Lup grins. “Nah, I’m gonna fight you with magic.” She brings up her own hand and hurls a fireball. </p><p>Unfortunately, all that shoots from her upturned palm is a Christmas ornament – a bauble of blown glass, glittery red. Again, it simply bounces off the necromancer’s chest and shatters on the floor. </p><p>“Who thought this was a fucking good idea?” Lup grumbles as she hurls herself aside again to dodge another attack. </p><p>Kravitz appears back in the doorway of the Hot Topic, his elf costume tattered and scorched. “Dick,” he growls, summoning another candy cane – blue and white, this time, maybe raspberry flavoured, Lup thinks - and taking a defensive stance. </p><p>Then the wall next to them explodes. </p><p>Lup is battered with pieces of drywall, but the necromancer is right in the path of <em>whatever </em>demolished the mall’s wall. She’s utterly flattened, her body disappearing beneath the pile of rubble. </p><p>Lup and Kravitz turn, their mouths hanging open, to see Barry skid to a halt in the sleigh, with all nine reindeer coated in brick dust but looking more pleased with themselves than a group of children’s icons have any right being after committing a murder. “Holy <em>fuck, </em>Bear,” Lup says, a little dazed. </p><p>“Well, it – It didn’t look like it was going well, and all I could summon was a four-foot tube of fantasy M&amp;Ms, so -” </p><p>He steps gingerly out of the sleigh, avoiding the rubble, and she hurls herself at him, landing in his arms and kissing him soundly despite his scratchy beard. </p><p>Kravitz looks at the assembled crowd of horrified parents and fascinated kids. “This is what happens to people on the naughty list!” He shouts. </p><p> </p><p>They’re in the sleigh, high above the landscape below, sat in silence as the sun sets over the horizon. Kravitz’s elf outfit is still smouldering, and Lup’s is coated in dust from the drywall. The sleigh has dents in it and the paintwork is scuffed. </p><p>“You know,” Lup starts. “I think that went quite well. For our first time.” </p><p>Barry laughs. “Yeah, you think they’ll invite us back next year?” </p><p>“As per most social functions I go to with you two, almost certainly not,” Kravitz says, </p><p>“Hey! Your husband is as bad,” Lup protests. “He got thrown out of a <em>fishing lake </em>one cycle, bone boy, so don’t act all superior.” </p><p>Kravitz’s face is a mask of confused fascination. “How - what did he do?” </p><p>“Used magic to sink all the other boats,” Barry says, matter-of-factly. “He used speak with animals to convince the fish to work together to capsize them.” </p><p>Kravitz sighs again. “Yeah, that sounds like him.” The exasperation in his voice is undercut by the adoring smile, though, and Lup makes fake gagging noises until he shoves her, almost knocking her out of the sleigh. </p><p>“Please try not to kill my wife on Candlenights eve,” Barry says, without even looking round. “We’re having people round, tomorrow, and they’re expecting to be fed -” </p><p>“Gods, yeah,” Lup says. “Murder me on the 26th, Krav, we can’t let Barry cook for our guests.” </p><p>Kravitz tries to keep a straight face, fighting a losing battle with the corners of his lips. “That would be a tragedy. I remember when you made me microwave rice -” </p><p>“Okay, fuck off,” Barry says. “How was I meant to know that Taako had enchanted your microwave -” </p><p>“Gods, I forgot you burned rice,” Lup says. “Barry, you’re the absolute love of my life and I adore you but, jeezy creezy, there’s a reason you’re forbidden from even thinking about the kitchen.” </p><p>“I’m thinking about it right now,” he says, petulantly. </p><p>She tries to lean across Kravitz to hit him, but he dodges away, sticking his tongue out. Kravitz simply leans backwards to avoid becoming embroiled in their fight. </p><p>They’re so busy bickering that they barely even notice as the reindeer touch down on solid ground, the sleigh gliding slowly to a halt. </p><p>Barry peeks over the edge. “Oh. Huh. I guess the present deliveries have started?” </p><p>They’re on a rooftop, coated in snow, a chimney poking up nearby. </p><p>“Yeah, I – do you really have to go down the chimney?” Lup asks. “Like, how – can we just go through the back door, maybe?” </p><p>Kravitz looks at her. “Do you – you really want to cross these reindeer? You want to challenge them for superiority? I know who’s the boss, and it isn’t Santa over there.” He points at Barry, who’s struggling to get the sack out from where he’s wedged it in the backseat. “We’re going down the chimney.” </p><p>Lup looks at the reindeer, weighing up whether she could win a fight with even one of these horses with spears. “Yeah. Okay.” </p><p>She dismounts from the sleigh, gingerly picking her way across the tiles. Kravitz trudges along after her, with an expression that clearly telegraphs, <em>why not? Maybe I’ll fall through this roof. It wouldn’t even be the shittiest part of today. </em>Barry follows them, carrying the sack. </p><p>They peer down the chimney. All of them look nervous, Barry especially. </p><p>“I - I really don’t want to go down there,” he says. “Kravitz, do you want to do it?” </p><p>Kravitz barks a laugh. “No way. You’re Santa, remember?” </p><p>Barry turns pleadingly to Lup, but she just shrugs. “Sorry, Bear.” </p><p>“Well, uh, okay,” he says, trying to look brave. “Guess I’ll take one for the team.” </p><p>Lup pats him on the back. “You got this, babe.” </p><p>He clambers up onto the lip of the chimney, swinging his legs over and squinting into the inky blackness. “I - I really don’t know about this -” </p><p>Lup pushes him. He falls, yelling the whole way. </p><p> </p><p>Barry had looked very sour after being pushed down a chimney, but after Lup had sat in his lap he’d forgotten all about it pretty quickly. Kravitz wishes he’d brought ear plugs, because they’d started making out soon after. </p><p>The reindeer make the rounds. Most houses go pretty smoothly. Some houses, without chimneys, require a little “creative access,” as Lup termed it, or “B&amp;E” as Kravitz had oh-so-helpfully elaborated. But, now, with the sun just peeking over the horizon, the golden glow like syrup, slowing flowing across the land, the sleigh flies onwards. </p><p>“I don’t think that went too badly,” Lup muses. “We - we only had to cast modify memory on, like, a few thousand kids. Could definitely have been worse.” </p><p>“You did burn down one child’s house,” Kravitz points out. “I don’t think that was on his Candlenights list.” </p><p>“Shoulda been more clear,” Lup pouts. “He didn’t explicitly say he <em>didn’t </em>want arson.” </p><p>Barry frowns. “And I <em>did </em>give him the pony he wanted.” </p><p>“I’m - I’m sure that’ll be a great comfort,” Kravitz says. “As they rebuild his house. Does his home insurance cover Santa-related arson, do you think?” </p><p>“Okay,” Lup says, glaring at Kravitz. “The other option was Merle does this. Can you imagine -” </p><p>Kravitz pulls a face. “Yeah, okay, you’re right. Nothing we do can be worse than that.” </p><p>They ride in silence for a minute. “You know...” Lup says. “I’m sure we could use our new Santa powers to gatecrash Merle’s party. Teach him a lesson for not inviting us.” </p><p>Barry and Kravitz look at each other, evil grins creeping across both their faces. </p><p>“That sounds like the most productive use of this sleigh all night,” Kravitz says. </p><p>“On Dasher! On Dancer!” Barry cries, and the reindeer gallop towards Bottlenose Cove. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! Thank you for reading and happy Candlenights, Hannukah, Christmas, or whatever you celebrate!<br/>Obviously this was inspired by the Hogfather, because the image of Death delivering presents was too fucking good. Am I going to continue the series of "reapers do weird shit on the holidays"? You'll have to find out on *checks calendar* Valentine's Day I guess? Or Easter? Maybe I could just rewrite this fic but with the easter bunny... do they celebrate easter in Faerun? Does Jesus Christ exist in Faerun? Also if you're a representative of the estate of Elvis I'm sorry I implied he was a serial killer but really did anyone ever see him and Ted Bundy in a room together? Check fucking mate dipshit</p><p> </p><p>Anyway. Please leave a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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